


The Archivist is Open

by CaesarVulpes



Category: The Magnus Archives
Genre: (an oc), (consent is assumed but Jon has the power to say no), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Canon Asexual Character, Do Not Archive (The Magnus Archives), Exhibitionism, F/M, If the watersports yucks ya I’ve tried to make it easy to skip, M/M, Multi, Objectification, Office Sex, Oral Sex, Other, Public Sex, Public Use, Sexy Admin, Trans Female Character, Trans Jon, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Voyeurism, Watersports, ace subtype: kinky?, extremely consensual, for CHRISTS SAKE dont archive, implicit consent, piss drinking, shakes my fist at everyone who enabled me, this is....a lot, to put it fucking mildly, trans aspec porn by trans aspec author, you know who u are
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 13:38:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22914994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaesarVulpes/pseuds/CaesarVulpes
Summary: In another world, Jon's job has two parts: Head Archivist, and, how did Elias put it?"Workplace stress relief."
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Jonathan Sims, Jonathan Sims/Original Female Character(s), Jonathan Sims/Original Male Character(s), Jonathan Sims/Original Nonbinary Character(s), Jonathan Sims/Other(s), Jonathan Sims/Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims, basically Jonathan Sims/The Magnus Institute
Comments: 32
Kudos: 300





	The Archivist is Open

**Author's Note:**

> this work contains a trans man (Jon) receiving and enjoying vaginal penetration, and discusses his genitals and pre-op chest in female-coded terms. if that's not your thing, I get it.  
But it's definitely mine. And Jon's.  
Also! If watersports/piss drinking squicks ya, skip the section that begins with “It’s about ten minutes to lunch” and resume with “Everyone says Elias’ reviews are always intense.” Have fun!

“Jon?” Martin opens the office door and pokes his head in. The talking stopped a few minutes ago, so he’s probably not interrupting the statement.

Jon looks at him upside down, splayed on his back across his desk. The statement giver—Abraham, was it?—gives Martin a polite nod and keeps fucking him hard and fast.

”Yes, Martin?”

Martin tears his eyes away from the way Jon’s tiny breasts bounce on every thrust. Turns his attention to Jon’s pinched, sweaty face. _Work_, Martin thinks,_ focus on work. You can have him later__._

”I just have that contact form, and the list of—”

The man lifts Jon’s hips and he yelps, clutches the edge of the desk and starts to gasp in rhythm with the man’s hips. Martin raises his voice over the sounds.

”I have the list of counselors!”

”Ah, y-yes, thank—oh, _oh!—_Thank you Martin. m-Mister Abrams—” (Ah, it was Abrams.) “If you’ll fill out our—fuck, mmh—your contact information when you’re finished, please, and we have a few,_ ah_, grief counselors we can refer you to if you’re—”

He picks up speed and Jon squeals, pinched off little squeaks rising higher and higher as his back arches. His beautiful body bows dramatically, his eyes roll back in his head. His thighs are vice-tight around the man’s hips. He winds tight, tight, and Martin can tell he’s close when Mr Abrams comes. Jon squirms as the big man moans and goes still, yelps when he drops him back onto the desk.

Martin purses his lips. He wishes people would take better care with the office supplies.

“No, I’m close, don’t _stop_,” Jon protests, but his job is done. He knows that, he’s just being needy. He whimpers, lifts himself on his elbows as Mr Abrams ties off the condom and chucks it in the bin. No others today. No wonder Jon’s so whiny. He’s always difficult when he doesn’t get to cum.

He’s managed to get to his feet and start to fix his clothes by the time Martin’s finished thanking Mr Abrams and seen him to the door. He still looks frustrated and so, so close.

Martin’s already turned on, might as well have a go.

Jon shrieks and falls back onto the desk when Martin shoves three fingers into his pussy. Spreads his legs eagerly.

“I’m guessing it was just about—”

Jon gasps. There, then, that’s the sweetly sore spot Mr Abrams was hammering so mercilessly. Martin can see why; it does make Jon clamp down ever so nicely as Martin assumes a similar pace.

“God! Please, _pleasepleaseplease_—”

Martin indulges himself, grabs one of Jon’s soft tits and sucks its twin into his mouth, rolls his tongue and thumb in unison over the hard little nipples. Tim peeks through the open door just in time to see Jon squeal and squirt all over Martin’s hand.

“Sloppy seconds?”

Jon sighs, shaky in his aftermath, and looks upside-down at Tim.

“No,” he says. “It appears Mr Abrams could actually _read__._ I swear, people come into a business and they’re suddenly illiterate.”

On Monday someone had come in to give a statement and tried to fuck him raw. Despite the clearly posted rules, and the ToS he’d had to sign to even _consider_ using their archivist.

Sometimes Elias will add to the terms, and if it’s the visitor ToS Martin will dutifully print and post an updated version in the Archive.

There are similarities. APPROVED IMPLEMENTS ONLY at the top, after a few people took to shoving any old thing in him, and the time Dana in the library lashed him with her belt and put him out of use for a few days (really, how hard is it not to break the office supplies!). There’s SOLID WASTE, and DRAWING BLOOD under the hard no’s (because no one wants to be the one to use him after that). Most visitor rules are for hygiene: visitors are required to use condoms, where employees are borderline discouraged. NO WATERSPORTS is repeated several times on the visitor ToS (as opposed to a list of approved locations for employees and extensive regulations on top of those. Martin thinks Elias probably gets off on the admin).

(After one statement, Jon had stalked out of his office looking cross, muttering darkly, and added TICKLING to the bottom of the list. Martin had tried his very best not to laugh, but Tim hadn’t).

"Get his number? He looks like he fucks like a freight train."

Jon squints a glare at him.

"He does and absolutely not. That's completely unprofessional." He sighs. “Martin, when I can bloody walk again, I need you down in the library with me.”

  
  


Jon gets held up three feet from the elevator on their way to the library. Danielle from accounts pushes him facefirst into the wall and hikes up his skirt just enough to get her cock in his ass. He hasn’t worn underwear to work for months, and rarely wears trousers anymore either, for ease of access (Martin thinks he should just go naked, but it does get cold). By the time she’s done there’s a queue, and Martin resigns himself to combing the library alone. Which is a shame, because Jon’s grasp on the Dewey Decimal system is way better than his.

...And they’re still not done by the time he gets back. Looks like two, maybe three have gone but there’s someone with their cock down Jon’s throat now. Martin thinks they’re in...HR?

“Let him get back down when you’re done, okay? Lots to do.”

Jon gurgles something, possibly agreement, but his eyes have gone glassy and vacant. He always gets like this when there’s enough of a queue, falls into a daze of being used, and there’s still one more person waiting.

“Sure thing,” they say, and then grab Jon’s hair, twist it to make him moan and clutch their hips tighter, take their cock deeper. “Not gonna last very long. He’s really hot for it today.”

“Yeah, there was a statement this morning. You know how he gets.”

  
  


It’s about ten minutes to lunch and Tim needs a piss so fucking bad. Good thing there’s a urinal here in the archives.

“Gonna piss,” he says, vaguely. Under his desk, Jon makes a fussy little noise but doesn’t take his mouth off his dick. Just slides back so he’s only got the head in his mouth and keeps his tongue still and waits.

“Good slut,” Tim says, just to make him shiver. Then he lets it out as slow as he can manage.

“Are you doing it _again?_” Martin groans.

Melanie looks scandalized. “Tim, gross!”

“Oh, like you haven’t—”

“Not at my _desk,_ Tim! It’s so awkward having to see your face when you piss!”

Tim grins at her, and Jon swallows his first mouthful.

(He used to spill a lot, but he’s a quick learner and _very_ dedicated to his job).

“How am I supposed to wait? He loves it. You know he pulled off me so he could get it across his tongue?”

He can feel Jon shifting, squirming. Pressing his thighs together.

“He does love the taste of it,” Martin says, thoughtful, bouncing the end of his pen off his pretty, plush lips. God, he's got to stop thinking about Martin or he’ll get hard again. Stupid sexy coworkers.

“He had me almost in his throat before this. He could have just swallowed, but no, he’s got to be a nasty slut, hasn’t he?”

A wet, muffled whimper. His stream peters off, finally, and there’s a nice little squirm of tongue against the slit to clean him off. The archives may be stuffy, and boring, but the facilities are excellent.

  
  


Everyone says Elias’ reviews are always intense. There’s something deeply powerful about him, unsettling, _knowing._ The Archivist’s head bobbing in his lap does nothing to soften that aura.

“Your coworkers tell me you were a great help in containing one of our more temperamental items. Would you care to explain your process?”

Devon’s stomach swoops. They’ve only been here a week, surely they haven’t already fucked up. The archivist makes a wet, throaty noise but Elias’ hand stops him pulling off.

“I was, yeah. I, uh, the weird book? The copy of _The Ersatz Elevator_ where those two black pages like, leak darkness everywhere?”

Elias’ elegant hand becomes a harsh fist in the archivist’s hair. The archivist gags, chokes, but keeps the rhythm Devon now realizes _Elias_ is setting.

“That would be the one, yes.”

“Well, I just sort of. It sounds daft when I say it out loud,” they begin, raising their voice just a little over the archivist’s soft little moans and the wet click of his throat, “But that week I’d dropped my phone in the sink, had to put it in rice to dry it out. So when I came in, and there was this bloody great puddle of black stuff around the book, I thought. Well. I thought the same logic might apply?”

The noises are driving them mad. They’ve always had a bit of a mouth fetish, and a frankly embarrassing tendency to get crushes on authority figures, and the confident stance Elias is holding while rocking his hips against the archivist’s face is making their insides gooey. They’re both gorgeous and it’s just. Wickedly unfair.

“That does explain your supervisor’s request for a monthly dry rice budget. An elegant solution, well done.”

They allow themself a shaky smile. Elias’ face goes just the tiniest bit pinched.

“Ah, excuse me for one moment.”

Elias fists two hands in the archivist’s messy hair and starts to fuck his face in earnest. The archivist just gives a sloppy, ecstatic gurgle and grabs the backs of Elias’ thighs. Elias grunts, groans, and goes still as he spills down the archivist’s throat.

When he pulls out, the archivist coughs, but doesn’t pull away.

“Please,” the archivist whimpers, which is the first time Devon’s actually heard him talk. They don’t get to use him much down in Artifact Storage. Hazards and all.

“I may be inclined to let you come,” Elias says, with sharp eyes. “If you tell me _exactly_ how you’re feeling.”

“Elias, please, _please_,” the slut sobs. “Please touch me, I’m so—”

He cuts himself off with a bitten lip. His pretty dark eyes dart, for the first time, towards Devon.

“Finish the thought, Jon.”

That surprises them, though it shouldn’t. Of course the archivist has a _name,_ they just never really thought about it. His ears are red now. Devon wishes they could touch him, could use one of those slick, slutty holes, especially the mouth. But their screening hasn’t come back yet, so until they’ve got copies of their clean bill of health all they can do is _watch._

“I, I’m so wet,” the archivist whimpers. “Just sucking you makes me so wet, and I’m so close it _hurts. _Please, I’ve been so good, I need to come. I want them to watch me come.”

Elias pats his cheek, hard, almost a slap, and he moans softly, sweetly.

“What do you think, Mx Kennedy? Do you want to watch him?”

Devon feels like they might pass out.

“Yes, please, sir. I’d like that very much.”

Elias gives them a bland smile and reaches into his desk. Pulls out a long, thick dildo with a suction cup base, which he apparently just _keeps in his desk_. The archivist moans, and his hands go to desperate claws that drag red marks into his own naked thighs, but he stays put while Elias fixes the toy to the floor.

“You know what to do with this, I assume.”

The archivist scrambles to comply. Elias, the world’s best fucking boss, has arranged it so that he has to face Devon while he does it, so that they can watch his pussy stretch around the toy. He rides it hard and fast, all little whimpers and cute squeals, and his eyes stay fixed on Devon. Watching them watch him. He comes in less than a minute, and it’s beautiful. Dramatic, with his eyes rolled back in his head.

  
  


“You going home soon?”

“Christ, Martin!”

Jon startles and almost knocks the freshly-sorted box of files off his desk. He hadn’t got much done today and has been trying to cram in some statements before end of day. Thursdays are often hectic, with everyone strained from the work week and antsy for the weekend. Lots of steam to blow off, as it were.

“Sorry, sorry, I thought you heard me!” Martin knocks belatedly on the doorframe. “Anyway, it’s almost six. If you want to get home before the custodians get to you, you’d better get moving.”

Jon sighs, sits back and stretches. His joints don’t pop like they used to. Probably all the exercise he’s getting.

“Thank you, Martin.”

On his way out, though, Martin pushes him down across his desk.

“I haven’t got to use you all day,” he says, petulantly, as though Jon cares when he’s rubbing that lovely big cock between his folds. “Too busy.”

“I’m here now,” Jon points out, and—oh, god, he’s still sore and slick with Tim’s last load of the night. He can still taste Basira in his mouth. He knows, though, he knows Martin likes him best like this. How did Tim put it? Sloppy seconds. Though he thinks it might be something like sloppy thirty-fourths. He locks his ankles behind Martin’s back and tries to breathe through the sweet ache. Martin fucks slow and deep, and puts his weight into it in a way Jon has to admit, however begrudgingly, that he fucking _adores. _To say nothing of the way his thick thumb fits against Jon's cock.  


To think, this new clause of the contract almost scared him away from the Head Archivist position. Now he's glad he took the chance. It's fulfilling work.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> well this is like the third nastiest thing i've ever written. also it's an everybody lives au bc im powerful n sexy. gerry's probably still out there somewhere. my city now.


End file.
